


darling, your eyes were full of darkness

by proudandbroken



Series: they'll never ever find the way to heaven's light [1]
Category: The Exorcist (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Demonic Possession, Demons, First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Post-Canon, Religious Conflict, Religious Guilt, marcus head is a messy place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-13 18:44:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16023761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/proudandbroken/pseuds/proudandbroken
Summary: “Hello Marcus. I’ve missed you.” He spoke coldly.No. It spoke. Whatever it was. This was not Tomas.There was no love in those eyes. Not anymore. Only darkness. A cold black void where once such warmth had been.





	darling, your eyes were full of darkness

Exhaustion slowly crept over him. Like small waves, first lapping only at his feet, small strokes, only mildly annoying. Until they became stronger and stronger, crashing over him with such strength they almost consumed him whole.

He was tired. So, so tired. When did he even sleep for the last time?

A whole night of undisturbed sleep. In a bed. A warm and comfortable bed. In a clean room. No outside noises. No nightmares, no thoughts. He could not remember. Yet what a wonderful dream that would be. 

No more dirty motels. No more crashing in his car, passing out from exhaustion and hoping to get just enough rest to function for another day. 

He would not get this. He did not deserve it. Not while he continued to be such a disappointment. Not while he failed more people than he could save. He would not indulge in this gluttony. It had to stay nothing more but a dream. Something he could wish for and yet it would never become reality

Sometimes he dreamed. Of burning fire and painful screams. Of darkness so silent it made his spine crawl.

Sometimes he dreamed. Of light and warmth. Of sun kissed skin and breathless kisses in the morning. Burning fingers on heated skin, shivering inducing touches and loving dark eyes gazing upon him.

Sometimes there was only emptiness.

Each was a torture of their own.

He did not want to be reminded of his failures, of his mistakes. All those people lost. For what purpose? An endless fight he could never win.

He did not want to be taunted with something he could never have, something he wanted more than anything. Something he craved like a drowning man craved the air to breathe.

How blasphemous. Though shall have no gods before me. Yet here he prayed for something quite different than eternal salvation at the mercy of the one and only god.

Well it might count as some sort of salvation. Just not the one the bible proclaimed.

Yet he wanted nothing more than to give in. To touch him, to kiss him, to claim him. He wanted to put his hands on him, touch the soft skin he had fantasized so often about. He wanted to taste him, to feel those rough hands touching him. A shameful longing for closeness, for intimacy.

It was a comfort to know that one could not get burned at the stake simply for having blasphemous thoughts. It was not like anyone knew. It was not like they would know. Though sometimes he felt as if the church could drag them right out of the depths of his mind. As if they knew and it was only a matter of time until he was put on the scaffold for his sins.

Not that they would do it while there was still some use to him.

They could excommunicate him. Show the power they held over him. Still. After all those years. He was nothing more than a puppet. Tight strings tied around him, the imaginary bonds carving so deep into his skin he was afraid he would never be able to loose them. Not without cutting off some parts of himself.

Though what scared him most was the emptiness. The never-ending darkness. It was calm. It was quiet. It was taunting him. With a peacefulness he knew he could not have. It was the devil speaking. Trying to lure him in with something he craved since childhood. 

He knew he could not give in. He had to be stronger, trying to resist the consistent pull of the darkness. It would not consume him. He would not let it. He might not be able to have happiness. But he would resist the dark side just as much. For he knew that once he gave in only worse pain awaited him.

The quiet was tempting. A peace of mind he so desperately wanted to feel.

No. He would get no peace. He did not deserve it. Not as long as he still failed his missions.

God would punish him for resting. Or was it rather the church? He could not tell the difference anymore. It didn’t matter anyway.

He wanted to believe. In god. Of course he did. Had he not been raised in that way.

Still he could not understand why god always choose to put misery on his way, to torture him and deny him happiness. Wasn’t he supposed to be merciful to his servants? Did he not dedicate his entire life to serving him? How come there was no reward for him? How come he felt almost no shame at doubting his god? At doubting the path which was so clearly chosen for him.

Perhaps it was the tight leash of the church. Forced upon him. Not that he ever had a choice. An unhealthy dependance, like an abused dog still craving the love of his master, no matter how many times he got hit and tortured.

Would he ever stop craving their acceptance? 

Of course he kept telling himself that he continued because he wanted to save people. It wasn’t even a lie. He had not known another life. It was natural, the need to save conditioned into his brain. He wanted to save people. To bring the good back into the world. Only that saving meant in more cases the mercy of a bullet.

There was no way for him to win this war. Yet it did not stop him from trying.

Perhaps this was his purpose. Fighting until he himself would die. Hoping that salvation would come to him. 

 

There was only one good thing in his life. One good person. After years of loneliness. How strange to find what he was not even aware of searching for. Or rather he was found. And he wanted to let himself hope. To think that perhaps he could have this. A life in peace. One day. In the future. That his fight would not end in pain but happiness.

Of course he could not have this. How naive.

Of course something would take his dreams from him, making them disappear like a shadow in an endless night. Just like it had promised it oh so many years ago.

_Do not fall in love Marcus. They don’t belong to you. They belong to me. I will take them from you. I warn you. You are mine._

Tomas did not deserve this. To be dragged into darkness simply by association. To be chosen for endless torture simply because he made the mistake of seeking him out.

He wanted to push him away, to make sure he would be safe. It was the least he could do. He would not be so selfish to claim him for himself. Not if he knew the consequences that awaited. He would rather suffer in selfless loneliness if it meant he could be safe.

What a wonderful illusion. There was no safety. Nowhere. It wanted something. It would make sure to get it. There was no escape once the mark was set. And just because he was lucky and the church had no access to his thoughts it did not mean that _it_ was just as clueless. No. It knew everything. Perhaps it had even laid it’s claim the moment he decided that he would stay to help Tomas.

In the end it was all in vain. It was all a game. One he could not win. Just like a rigged machine in a casino. No matter which decision he took, they were all wrong. After all he was cursed. Doomed to lose everyone he loved.

He had left. Tried to be the better man. Ignoring the pain that shot through him as he turned around. How he had pretended not to notice the arms around him tightening, as if they never wanted to let him go. Oh it was so much easier to pretend. To imagine the wetness against his neck were not tears and that he was not breaking both their hearts by going.

He would come back. Once he was safe. Once he had destroyed it. That he swore. On his life.

It was better that way. Or so he kept telling himself. For weeks. For months. Until he almost believed this lie.

But he could not forget. He still dreamt. Now even more than before. His mind torturing him with what he craved so much until he woke up, his name leaving his mouth in a broken sob.

 

A nighttime call. The jarring ringtone disrupting just another of his nightmares. A helpless whimper, the voice so weak he barely recognized it.

_“Marcus… help me. Something is here… I’m scared… please…”_

He had never heard such fear in his voice. Not in all the time that he had known him. Something was wrong. Something had to be so wrong that he called him. Even though he was hundreds of miles away. And even though it’s been months since they had spoken last.

“I’m coming. Stay strong for me, darling. I’m coming for you. I promise!”, he rambled into the phone before the line went silent, cutting him off mid sentence.

He was scared. Of what awaited him. Of whatever was happening. Of not making it back in time. So many things to be afraid of.

No. He would not worry about it. Not while he was still so far away. Tomas was strong. He would handle this until he arrived. Or at least that’s what he hoped.

 

Raising his gun he took a deep breath as he stepped into the apartment. It felt weird to be back. It was almost as if no time had passed since he last set foot here. It seemed the same. And yet it was so different. He could almost feel it. A change in the air, raising the fine hairs at the back of his neck in fear of what he would find.

“Tomas? Are you here? It’s me.”, he shouted into the emptiness of the apartment.

First there was silence. A clock ticking somewhere. Nothing but those steady noises. 

Then he heard footsteps. Slowly, controlled, coming closer and closer until he could finally see him. 

“Hello Marcus. I’ve missed you”, he spoke coldly.

No. It spoke. Whatever it was. This was not Tomas.

There was no love in those eyes. Not anymore. Only darkness. A cold black void where once such warmth had been. Dried blood flaked on spilt lips, new crimson liquid appearing between the dark brown spots before it smeared into a macabre sight.

Shaken he stumbled back. No. No, no, no, no. He was too late. It had claimed him.

He prayed for his voice to obey him, to not show any of the fear that he felt inside.

“I demand you to release him.”

It had the audacity to smile at him.

“Oh but it doesn’t work that way Marcus. Don’t you know better?”

“Please. he is innocent.”

He was begging. Truly begging for it to let him go. As if that would work. As if he did not know better.

“Then why did you leave me? I was so alone. I was afraid Marcus. I was so scared. I wanted you here. With me. But you were not there. Why did you leave me alone Marcus?”

It was scary how the tone of it’s voice changed. How it almost sounded like Tomas. Good enough to fool everyone. Except for him.

He knew it was that thing talking.

Yet there was a bitter truth to those words. He had left. And had forsaken him to the wrath of this thing. He could have prevented it, had he just been here. But no. He was gone. A selfless attempt of trying to do the right thing. If it only wouldn’t have gone so wrong.

Staying or leaving. There had been only two choices. Such a shame he had picked the wrong one.

“I wanted you to be safe. I left so it would spare you!”

“You never wanted me! I was never good enough for you.”

There it was again. The aggressive bitterness in those accusations. And he wondered how much of it was the thing talking and how much it was actually what Tomas was feeling.

“That’s not true and you know it. Don’t listen to it Tomas. Please!”

“I love you Marcus. Why don’t you love me Marcus? Why won’t you touch me? Don’t you want me? Do I disgust you that much? Dis you hate me so much that you had to leave?”

There were tears running down his cheeks and he felt a stabbing pain in his heart at realizing how much he had broken him. Sure, it might have been in control, but it had to feed on something. On thoughts, on feelings, on insecurities. On pain that had been inflicted.

And he was to blame. He had created such a wound to invite it inside.

“I love you. I love you so much that I had to leave. I wanted to save you. Please, you must believe me. Don’t listen to it, darling. Come back to me.”

A taunting laugh followed, “My, my, aren’t we selfless. You loved him so much you let him go. I’m impressed at such a sacrifice.”

Back and forth. It wanted to confuse him. Attack him with a sight that was bound to hurt only to them mock him for his weakness.

“Tomas I beg you, fight against it! This is not you!”

“Oh but it is me. The real me.”

“It isn’t. I’m here now darling. And I won’t leave. We can fight it together.”

It was useless to beg. He knew it. Yet he could not stop himself. He had to try. He would never forgive himself if he wouldn’t.

“Well, won’t you pray for me, Father?” It taunted him, knowing very well that he could not do this, that he had not the strength to perform an exorcism on Tomas.

“I told you Marcus. I warned you. You are mine. And whatever is yours is also mine. You should have never claimed him Marcus.”

“But I left.”

“Oh but leaving is not enough. He was still yours. Or didn’t you consider him that way all those months. You claimed him. And you’ve given me the most wonderful gift. I ought to thank you for it Marcus.”

How foolish. He had been so focused on being happy that the church could not read his mind that he forgot about the thing. 

“You cannot save him Marcus. But you can join him. Just give in. And you can burn together. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” He laughed, blood staining his teeth in such a gruesome picture he shivered in fear.

“Come back to me. Please. I beg you. Come back to me my love. I need you. Please... Tomas...” It was nothing more than a broken sob, leaving his mouth so quietly he was unsure if Tomas would even hear it.

 

But yet, there it was. A soft shine of warmth, breaking through the darkness in his eyes.

“Marcus…” A broken whisper and yet it was enough to send him running across the room and pull him into his arms. Finally. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He could feel the words more than he could hear them, lips pressed against his collarbone as tears wet his neck.

“Shh, it’s not your fault darling. It’s mine. I shouldn’t have left.”

He buried his free hand into his hair, stroking through the soft strands. The curls were longer now, as if he hadn’t bothered to cut them in the past months.

“No. It would have found a way. I could feel it Marcus. It is so strong. I don’t know how much longer I can control it.”

“No you can fight it. Please, darling. I know you can.”

He pressed his forehead against Tomas’, looking deeply into his eyes, into the warmth depth he had missed so dearly.

“You know I can’t. It wants not only me. It also wants you. I let it in, so it could not have you.”

“Tomas no. God why did you do this.”

There was no way to undo this. Not when he had invited him in. That’s why it could taunt him. It knew there was no chance.

“Because I love you. It offered me a deal and I took it. Because there was no other way to make sure you would be safe.”

His heart nearly broke. They both wanted nothing more than to keep the other safe. But they had chosen wrong. And now they had to pay the price for it.

“It lied Tomas. It always wanted me. It will never stop. I will never be safe from it.”

“Then perhaps we were both fools to let it control us. But it was right, you know. I’m yours Marcus. Forever.”

“Oh Tomas, I love you so much darling.”  
  
If only this could be a fairytale. If only love would be strong enough to save them.

“Kiss me Marcus. Please. Just once. Let me have this before I die. Let me have this memory before it is back in control.”  


“No…”

He did not want to think about that. He did not want to face the truth that his short moment with Tomas would be over soon. He did not want to imagine how much strength it must cost him to keep it at bay, to regain control of himself.

“I want this. Please. We don’t have long. Just give me that. One last wish.” A sad smile grazed his bloody lips.

“Tomas—”

He could see it, trying to take back control, darkness trying to cloud his eyes again, trying to mask a longing that was still there.

“Marcus… please…” He whispered against his lips.

Just one kiss. That’s what he wanted. What he had wanted for such a long time. One last kiss, where he could loose himself. Where he could finally taste the forbidden fruit.

He knew he should be strong. That he should not give in. That he should do the right thing. What was expected of him. But for once in his life he could not be that person.

He was weak. He was desperate. He did not care.

He wanted this. He wanted Tomas.

A frantic kiss, full of emotion. Tongue tasting blood, love and darkness. It was bittersweet and yet so addictive. He did not want to stop. Wanted to keep going forever. He had devoured the forbidden fruit. He had gained the knowledge he had been seeking. And now his punishment awaited.

With shaking fingers he raised the gun, praying for the strength to be able to do what needed to be done before it was too late. To not give in. To be strong enough for once in his life.

 

Just one more kiss, this one slower and deeper, stealing his breath. Right before darkness swallowed him. A huge wave, crashing over him and finally consuming him. Leaving nothing but emptiness behind.

 

_ darling your eyes were full of darkness _

_ now someone else holds what is mine _

_ there is hollowness inside _

_ and emptiness behind _

**Author's Note:**

> well tbh this was a quite unexpected story. unexpected as in I never expected to write it but my inspiration was like "how about you write this instead of working on your wip" and here it is. :D
> 
> this one is heavily inspired by the song haythor (listen to it here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W7aSn6X0LrA if you want to) and I feel like I should apologize for writing such an angst fest again but I just can't help it :D
> 
> since I only watched season one (bc season two is not available on prime here) this takes place in an unspecified time probably sometimes post season two but who needs canon anyway
> 
> as always English is not my first language and this work was not beta read by anyone. should you find a mistake or want me to fix something you can always kindly notify me and I will fix it.
> 
> kudos & comments are always appreciated <3


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